Sara's Song (13 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Sara's Song
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“Then do it. Stop worrying about other people. When are you going to learn to do what you want to do? I'm sure that retinue of people Mr. Lord surrounds himself with will come up with a dinner.”
“That's just it, Nellie. There is no retinue. He gave the gardener, the pool man, and the housekeeper time off. He wanted to be alone. The band members are scattered all over the country with the exception of one of his singers, who hangs around by the gate. He's counting on me. He's so lost and lonely. Right now I feel exactly the same way he does. I can relate to him in so many ways. After today, more so than ever.”
Nellie snorted as she held her coffee cup aloft for a refill. “What happened today was not your fault. We all go through periods like this. It takes guts to go forward. If you pamper and coddle him of course he's going to latch on to you. You're his crutch. The hard edge should be off his grief by now. The man has a brother, Sara.”
“I don't even want to get into that, Nellie. I think I got myself in a little too deep. At first I was flattered, and it was fun. Now it's a strain and an effort. I think it's me. I like Dallas tremendously and I think I'm falling in love with him. He kisses me but he hasn't sexually hit on me. I find that . . . weird. He has this, for want of a better phrase, old-world respect for me. Sometimes I like it, and other times I don't.”
“You could come to my house for Thanksgiving dinner. I bought a twelve-pound bird. I'm going to do my pies tonight. I have to tell you, though, I invited Steven McGuire, and he's coming. I'll fix up a dinner and take it over to Sadie Osborne. Usually Steven goes home to his family in Indiana, but he has some surgery scheduled for the day after Thanksgiving. He's doing two hip replacements on two shepherds from the same litter. Isn't that amazing? What did you think of him?”
“He was very nice. I think we could be friends. It's getting late, Nellie, I should be going. I appreciate your loyalty. I'm going to worry about you, though.”
“Baloney. I'm applying for Social Security. My pension is sufficient. My little town house is paid for. I'm going to be just fine. Working with Steven a few hours a day is just perfect. Don't forget, I can always do private duty. You worry about what you're going to do. Just don't make hasty decisions. I want your promise, Sara.”
“I promise, Nellie. At least I'll be able to go on that diet and go back on my exercise routine to take off the ten pounds I put on since last year. That was going to be my New Year's resolution. Now I won't have to wait to start it. You should think about starting a program to give up smoking.”
“It's something to think about. This was my treat, Sara. Are you sure you're all right?”
“No, Nellie, I'm not all right. I need to do some hard thinking. I wish I was a schoolteacher. My mother wanted me to go into the education field. It was my dad who wanted me to be a doctor. He wanted Carly to be an architect. She didn't buckle under the way I did. I actually allowed my father to convince me I wanted to be a doctor. For a long time I had myself convinced I wanted to be a doctor all my life. I did it for my father, not for me. I'll call you over the weekend. Thanks for the dinner invitation. Don't eat too much. Say hello to Steven for me.”
“Make sure you call me, Sara.”
“I will. Thanks for everything, Nellie. Without you at Benton, I would have quit after two weeks. Enjoy your retirement.”
It was close to seven o'clock when Sara set the contents of her hospital locker on top of the clothes dryer in the garage. She took a moment to study the Jeep Wrangler she'd just parked. She hated it. She wanted her Jaguar back.
Sara kicked off her shoes at the top of the garage steps before she pressed the numbers that would deactivate her security alarm. The kitchen phone and Carly's personal phone rang at the same moment. She made no move to answer either one. Instead she sat down and stretched her legs out in front of her. She eyed her medical bag on the kitchen table. She wished again that she was a schoolteacher with nothing to do but make up lesson plans. Both phones continued to ring. Obviously the person doing the calling knew the answering machines for both phones switched on after the fifth ring at which point the caller broke the connection and redialed. With Sara's zero social life it had to be Dallas Lord doing the calling.
Never one to run from her responsibilities, Sara picked up the phone to call the house in Mandeville Canyon. Dallas picked up the phone on the first ring. His voice sounded worried and concerned to her ear.
“Dallas, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you. I won't be coming up to the house this evening. Right now I'm feeling sorry for myself and I wouldn't be good company. I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving. I think I'll just spend mine sleeping.”
“You sound funny, Sara. What's wrong? Did something happen?”
“Yes, something's wrong, and yes, something happened. I found out today the hospital isn't going to renew my contract. I can't be without a job. I have a mountain of bills, so that means I have to start to scramble for another job. This is not a good time of the year to be out of work.”
“I thought you said you had a whole month and that the contract had to be negotiated. How did you find out?”
“That's not important. Besides, I can't betray a confidence. Nellie quit in protest. You met Nellie at the hospital when you brought Billy in. She's the one I talk about all the time. It's not fair, and it's not right. I might just go to a lawyer and find out if I've been discriminated against because I'm a woman.”
Dallas's voice became anxious sounding. “What will that get you but a big legal bill? How can you hope to fight and win against a big hospital?”
“With what I know and with what I can prove, a lot. Nellie and my sister are behind me. When I get done airing all Benton's dirty laundry, private donations will be just a memory. Don't mind me, Dallas, I'm upset. I'm going to take a hot bath and go to bed. Have a nice Thanksgiving. I'm really sorry, Dallas, but I know you understand. I'll try to get up there in the next couple of days to get my car. I really don't like your Jeep.”
Sara took the phone off the hook and laid the receiver on the kitchen counter. The total silence was wonderful. She did the same thing with Carly's phone in her room.
Ninety minutes later she was sound asleep.
Chapter Seven
Dallas hung up the phone, his thoughts whirling.
Think things out, make a plan, and then follow through
. Adam's words. Adam's advice. Both of which he constantly ignored. If Sara ever found out what he did, she'd hate him. Right now she probably didn't like him very much, or she would have come up to the house to talk about her disappointment. She wanted her car back. That alone had to mean something. Benton's dirty laundry. What did that mean? Would Harry Heinrick be forced to tell Sara's lawyer about the deal he'd made if he reneged?
Dallas felt a headache coming on. If he didn't pay attention to it, he'd have a full-blown migraine before long. Maybe it was time for some music; music always made things better. Even though he wanted to call Adam, he wouldn't. He needed to do something before he lost control of everything. Where was he going to sleep tonight? Even though the decorators were on the first floor, the sounds would carry upstairs. Then there was the mess on his bed. Of course he had six other bedrooms to choose from. Sara wanted her car back. What the hell was he supposed to do with all the food in the refrigerator? Adam would have the answer to everything in less than five seconds. He, on the other hand, needed
hours
just to think about the problem, never mind solving it.
Dallas looked around the state-of-the-art sound studio that ran the entire length of his house. He'd seen professional studios that weren't half as well equipped as this one. He flicked dials, turned switches and knobs. Sound blasted his eardrums. When he and the Canyon River Band recorded an album, the whole canyon rocked with their sound. He turned the knobs, switches, and dials to the Off position. For the first time in his life, music wasn't his answer. He needed to talk to Billy, only Billy was dead. He could never talk to Billy again. The only other person who seemed to understand him and offer encouragement was Sara, and he'd screwed that up just the way he screwed everything up. According to Adam. He wondered if Adam
ever
did anything wrong.
Disgusted with himself, Dallas tore out of the kitchen and then out to the garage. Good, Sara's keys were still in the ignition. Two keys. One for the car and one for the house. He backed the Jag out of the garage, barreled down the driveway just as the gate opened wide. No hangers-on, no fans, no paparazzi anywhere. The thought was disconcerting as he tore down the canyon roads at ninety miles an hour. Did that mean he was losing his appeal or did it mean they were respecting his right to grieve?
Dallas rode around for an hour as he tried to remember the landmarks Sara had spoken of. It was after one in the morning when the headlights of the Jag arced on the front of the house. He closed the car door quietly. Just as quietly, he opened the garage door. He stared at the alarm panel. Only the green light glowed. The system wasn't armed, which meant he could enter the house through the kitchen.
The kitchen was warm and cozy, the night-light shedding just enough light for him to find his way. Small indoor sensor lights in the wall sockets lighted his way the moment he stepped in front of them. At the top of the steps he leaned over the balcony to stare down into the family room. Sara and her sister probably played in that very room. Maybe checkers, maybe Monopoly. Family pictures were everywhere. The fireplace was fieldstone and rose all the way to the ceiling. Bright red Christmas stockings probably hung there on Christmas Eve. His eyes started to burn with unshed tears when he remembered the year Adam had found a red mesh bag from a sack of oranges and made him a stocking filled with licorice sticks, Jujubes, and a brand-new comic book. Because he didn't have anything for his brother and because he was stupid, he'd thrown the homemade stocking at Adam and run out of the mean, ugly, barren house but not before he'd seen his brother's shoulders slump or the tears in his eyes. There was no way he could ever make that right.
. Dallas tapped lightly on the only closed door on the second floor, calling Sara's name as he did so.
Sara woke instantly. “Dallas, is that you?”
“Yeah, it's me. I brought your car back. I let myself in with your house key. Is it okay for me to come in?”
“You're here so I guess it's okay. Let me get my robe. Is anything wrong, Dallas? I didn't mean for you to bring my car back tonight.”
“I know. I wanted to see you. You sounded so unhappy. Let's go down to your kitchen and have some coffee. I want to talk to you about something. Show me the corner where you put your Christmas tree. It's Thanksgiving.”
Sara tied the belt of her old flannel robe so tightly she gasped. What was happening here? Goose bumps dotted her arms.
“In the corner across from the fireplace. My mother always. piled the extra presents that didn't fit under the tree on top of the piano. It was always very . . . festive around here during the holiday season.”
“I like this house,” Dallas said as he trailed her to the kitchen. “They're redecorating my office, and they make a lot of noise. That's why I came down this evening. Plus I knew you wanted your car.”
Sara measured coffee into the percolator. “I didn't know decorators worked at night.”
“
Through
the night. I told them I wanted the office finished by morning. You have to pay extra for that. Sometimes it's good to have a lot of money. Listen, Sara, I want to help you. I can set you up in practice, and you don't even have to pay me back. I remember everything you said about all the bills you owe. Right now, right this very second, I can write you a check to cover everything. Your student loans, your car, the mortgages, and all those appliances you bought. Then, when you're the richest most important doctor in the country, you can pay me back. If you want to. If you don't, that's okay, too.”
“Dallas, I can't take money from you. I can't borrow another cent. I can collect unemployment for a little while. I'll find a job. Doctors collect unemployment all the time,” Sara lied as she crossed her fingers. “Carly helps out. We'll be able to make the mortgage payments. The worst-case scenario is I might lose the car. So, I'll get a bicycle.”
“Are you saying no?” Dallas's eyes were wide with shock.
“I'm saying no. I would never, ever, abuse our friendship by borrowing money. That's the best way in the world to lose a friend.”
“Will you marry me?”
The coffee Sara was pouring into the cup splashed out onto the counter. She yelped as some of the. scalding coffee dripped on her big toe.
“Will you? If you do, that means half of everything I have will be yours and you can do what you want. I don't believe in prenuptial agreements. Marriage is forever. Adam doesn't agree, but I don't care.”
“Dallas, sit down. Listen to me. I like you a lot. I enjoyed the time we've spent together, but I don't know if either one of us is ready for any kind of serious commitment. We've only known each other for a little over a month.”
“I guess that means you aren't sure if you love me. I'm not sure either. What I do know for sure is I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. So, you see, it's okay. If we get married, we won't have to pretend with each other. Will you think about it? Think about all the good we can do together.”
“Dallas, I . . .”
“Sara, I could build you the biggest, the best hospital in the country. Maybe in the world. You'd be the boss. The tour in January will make me a lot of money. New albums are on the schedule. I've got new songs ready to go. In a way the money is unlimited. It really is. It would make me very happy to know my music helps people who need your help. Kids with heart problems, old people with heart problems. You could take care of them and not even charge them. What's the name of that wrinkled old lady in India who works with all those poor, sick people?” .
“Mother Teresa?” Sara said in a strangled voice.
“Yeah, her. You could do good stuff like she does. You might end up being more famous than me. I've made up my mind I'm going to cut back on my tour schedule. That means I'll be home for supper. We can just cut records. The band will love it. The guys' wives will love it even more. Please, Sara, say yes. We could even live here if you want or we could get a house just like this some place else. I'll have to keep the house in the canyon because of the recording studio. Say something, Sara.”
Sara cleared her throat. “Is there something you aren't telling me? Did something happen? What made you ask me to marry you? There must be millions of young women in this world who would marry you and love you for who you are. I'm almost as old as you are, Dallas. It's not my intention to have children this late in my life. I've made that choice, and I intend to live by it. Don't you want children?”
“Sandi Sims asked me the same question. I said yes because I thought I did. Later when I. thought about it I realized I probably wouldn't make a good father. So, my answer to the question is no, not particularly. I don't want to pass on my bad genes or whatever it is kids get from their parents. I'm not the ... the brightest person. I'm good with music. That's all I'm good at. I can't read well. I don't understand things when I do read them. I'm ... slow.”
At Sara's stricken look, Dallas said, “My brain just can't handle . . . you know, normal stuff. Stuff that's easy for you and Adam. I can't get a handle on it. One time Billy got mad at me and called me dim-witted. He used to call me a lot of names. I always forgave him because he was my only friend. I don't think I ever truly forgave him, though, in my heart. That's the same as retarded. I didn't speak to him for a whole month. He said he was sorry and didn't mean it, but he did mean it, and I never forgave him for that lie. At the cemetery I did, but then it was too late. I'm just . . . retarded.”
Sara gasped. “Where did you get an idea like that, Dallas?”
“From my brother and from Billy? I told you, the only thing I'm any good at is music.”
“Oh, Dallas, that doesn't mean you're retarded. You might have some sort of a learning disability, that's all. Millions of people have learning disabilities. There's no shame in that. Look what you've done, look what you've accomplished. Were you ever tested in school?”
“All the time. Nobody ever told me how I did. Adam made sure I got through school. Adam's the smart one. Charlie and Millie didn't care how we did in school. They never asked to see my report card. Adam always asked.”
Tears pricked Sara's eyes. “I have an idea. Let's take our coffee into the family room and light a fire. You trust me don't you, Dallas?”
“Sure.”
“I mean
really
trust me. We'll curl up by the fire, and I want you to talk to me like I was Billy. I want you to tell me everything about your life.” Something stirred in Sara then, something maternal and something else. She wanted him to reach out to her and she wanted to cuddle in his arms. What was happening to her?
She lit the fire, and they settled in front of it with their mugs of coffee.
“What if you don't want to marry me after I tell you all the things about me and Adam?” Dallas asked.
“I asked you if you trusted me. You said yes. Your answers won't affect my decision.”
“Will you promise me that you won't be angry with Adam after we talk? It's okay for me to get mad at him because he's my brother. I don't like it when someone else gets mad at him. I'm going to Las Vegas on the tenth of December. We're doing a charity benefit for aging musicians. It's a sold-out performance. I'd like us to get married when I get back. That's a really nice fire, Sara. Too bad you don't have some weenies and marshmallows.”
“Oh, but I do. You sit right there, and I'll get them. While I toast the weenies and marshmallows you can talk. Dallas, would you mind if I recorded our conversation? I give you my word no one but me will ever hear the tape. I often record with a patient. Mostly it's so I don't make a mistake. If you want, I'll swear on Billy Sweet.”
“Sure, okay. I'm like that, too, Sara. I never break a promise, and when I give my word or shake hands it's good as gold. See, we have more in common than you think.”
It the kitchen, Sara leaned against the refrigerator. She needed to think, but her brain was a beehive. She returned to the living room with the skewers, the marshmallows, the weenies, and rolls. She felt numb. From the top of her head to the tip of her bare toes. In some way she knew this was a turning point in her life.
“I'm going to cook as soon as the fire's hot. You just talk. Say anything you feel like saying. I'd like it if you'd start with your earliest childhood memories. One last thing, Dallas. I will not judge you.” Dallas nodded.
It was full light when Sara shut off the tape recorder. She slid the bundle of tapes into an envelope. The recorder went back into the cabinet where she kept her CDs.
“I don't think I ever ate four hot dogs in my life,” Sara said. “My New Year's resolution is to exercise and lose ten pounds.”
“Why don't you go to one of those fat farms?”

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